


Till Death

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Violence, Near Death Experiences, Shower Sex, but here we are with death decay and misery once more, many marriage proposals, this isn't as sad as it sounds!, this was meant to be really funny!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9404369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A few near-death experiences make Bucky further realise that he wants Sam, always and forever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Some points about this AU: this is post-catws (let’s say a few years), cacw hasn’t happened, Buckys an Avenger and because aou hasn’t happened in this universe either apparently, Clint is there in the flesh and non-retired.

It’s at a shipping dock; Natasha, Clint, Bucky and Sam against a group of people in numbers that give them a strenuous workout, but nothing to dent their morale. They followed leads on smuggled weapons and traced them here, unsurprised to find people ready to defend themselves. It’s all fine, standard procedures (including the ass-kicking). For the most part, it’s what they’d call a quiet day. And Bucky thinks it’ll be the hundredth time where nothing really goes wrong.

 

Until Sam’s flight tech is damaged and he catapults straight into the water.

 

That’s the part where Bucky disobeys the orders, and for a long time after the mission when they debrief (Mission objective failed, but Sam safe) Bucky considers lying just to escape what had happened. But he can’t. Sam was injured and took too long to break the surface of the water. Bucky abandoned the mission to save him. Natasha had scolded him about it on the way back to the Tower, pinning the outcome of unobtained weapons on him. He let her talk, remained stoic, but offered Sam concerned glances every now and then.

 

He can feel Sam shouldering the blame too even if nobody else is accusing him of anything. Bucky assumes they’ll have a heated discussion about this later; Sam feigning good well-being and Bucky knowing better than to believe him. Hill reprimands all of them ( _This should’ve been an easy one_ ). She even directs criticism towards Natasha, who doesn’t take reprimands lightly when she believes she’s faultless.

 

Despite everything, it’s standard.

 

Sam’s quiet when they get to his room. Really, it’s their room, seeing as Bucky rarely spends time in his own. He tip-toes around everything; Sam, his own feelings, the socks on the floor which are his from the last time they had sex—which was so long ago, they really should get back into doing that on a regular basis—and last of all mentally navigating around the words that he wants to say. _You okay? Need a hug? I could leave. No. Don’t make me. I was so scared. I could’ve lost you. I never want to lose you—God—Sam, just…_

 

“Marry me,” Bucky says, with so much urgency, as if he couldn’t breathe until it came out of him.

It penetrates Sam’s ears, bounces from the walls and then hangs there, spoiling the atmosphere.  

 

Sam turns to look at him, sighs, and makes a face as if he’s about to deliver news that saddens himself to say. But he doesn’t say anything, and Bucky feels a strange combination of relief and worry over this. Sam’s all over the place, giving him mixed signals that send Bucky’s own thoughts flying through the roof. He doesn’t know what to do. His current game plan transitions to wanting to tell Sam _ignore that just pretend I never said anything_ and then scoop Sam into his arms and take him to bed.

 

But Bucky can’t escape it. It’s like a continuous ringing in his ears. This is the first time he’s felt absolutely _certain_ that Sam was dead. He’d ignored Natasha’s shouts over the ear-piece and went to dive down for him, diving down until he finally saw Sam floating there. He’d done that before, he remembers, for Steve. But this one hurt more. Bucky refused to breathe until Sam did. And now they’re here and Bucky still feels like he’s lost him.

 

“It’s my fault,” Sam says after a while, bringing Bucky back from the depths of water; the scene having replayed in his head a million times in a few seconds.

 

“It’s not,” Bucky says.

 

Sam doesn’t say anything more. 

 

 

\--

 

 

They track the weapons to the middle of the sea. By now, Bucky’s tired of water and tired of falling.

 

This time it’s worse. This time, for a brief second, Bucky is sure everyone is dead. He’s wrong. He’s treading water and staring at a sinking ship engulfed in flames. He starts panicking. _Where’s Sam where’s Sam where’s Sam no not again not this time_. Bucky ignores Steve somewhere in the distance calling out to him. He doesn’t stop calling for Sam until he finally breaks the surface of the water. Bucky’s still yelling for him until Sam puts his wet hands on his face and says, _I’m here. I’m here._

It takes weeks for either of them to recover from this. They distance themselves to sort out personal issues before rebuilding together.   

 

It’s over when Sam texts Bucky to meet him in his room. Bucky dashes across the hallway, so overwhelmed by the time he gets to Sam’s room. It’s empty and dark. Light peaks from below the door to the attached bathroom.

 

Inside the bathroom it’s steamy, the mirror fogged up. Sam doesn’t flinch at Bucky sliding the shower door open. Despite everything that’s happened, it’s like how it was all those times Bucky did this before. It’s good to feel like he’s back in that time pre—unanticipated-running-of-the-mouth-marriage-proposal that changed the air for good between them. It still hangs there; at the edge of Bucky’s lips, his mind and probably Sam’s, unacknowledged.

 

He stops thinking about that—about how he ruined his own chances of having Sam forever—and pays attention to how Sam shudders when Bucky places his hands on his shoulders, stepping underneath the stream to be with him. Sam tilts his head back and Bucky kisses his temple. It becomes normal between them again as fast as light spills into the room when the curtains are pulled apart in the morning. They hold each other, stuck in the moment.

 

Sam turns around to face Bucky, presses himself against him and lets his cheek rest against his shoulder, _‘I’m sorry’_ leaving his lips.

Bucky nods, tells him he’s sorry too. Neither of them really know what they’re sorry for, but they take in each other’s apologies with kisses. Bucky kisses Sam here and there and under there and just _there_ right where he likes it, both of them starved of it for what feels like eons. Their bodies practically meld together under the hot water. It’s messy. Bucky can’t let go—won’t _—_ and Sam consents to being held; Bucky’s metal fingers digging into his side then sliding down past his hips. Soon Sam’s up against the wall taking it, back towards Bucky.

 

Bucky takes him to bed and they finish there, still soaking and overtly warm, and it’s good. Back to standard.

 

“I just got so distracted afterwards,” Sam says. “You said ‘marry me’ and I just. I don’t know.”

 

Bucky says, “It’s okay,” and then thinks, ‘ _Well, almost back to standard.’_

 

 

\--

 

 

They decide it’s best to not be assigned to missions together.

 

Bucky experiences longer stretches of time without Sam. Their separation does little to ease Bucky’s worries. They eat into him, right through to the core till he’s hollow.

 

 

\-- 

 

 

It's three a.m. and it's time for dinner, Sam having gotten home an hour prior. He’s standing by a pot at the stove discussing how he can't get used to being anything more than a soldier. He doesn't like the word spy because he can't imagine himself being anything like Natasha. Bucky imagines Sam in tight tactical gear at the comment. Sam likens himself to a detective of some sorts. Bucky calls him an Avenger. Sam scoffs.

 

"Whatever. I don’t have to be called anything. I'm just a guy who catches bad guys. Who also flies. And shoots two guns at the same time. And who hates coming home at ungodly hours in the morning.”

 

"I don't know, Sam. You’re just modest. What do you wanna be called? A cop?”

 

Sam scoffs at that too.

 

"That’s fair. Is that soup?"

 

"I think so. It's three in the morning, Buck. I just poured something into a pot of boiling water and I don't know what it is."

 

Bucky laughs.

 

He watches Sam, enjoying everything about this despite the time and the fact that he is genuinely starving. He postponed eating till Sam came home, but now they’re both too tired to make anything substantial.

 

Bucky doesn’t consider himself an Avenger either, still too distraught by his past life to claim the title. The only thing he knows for sure is that he’s a man who wants to get married to Sam Wilson.

 

It makes sense, really, for him to want this so bad. _A man his age in the 1940s should've had a girl lined up for him_ , he'd always thought. Then he realised that girl wasn't a girl, but Steve. Then not Steve. Finally, neither of them ended up waking up in correct time periods. 

 

He's glad, almost, for the stuff that's happened. All of it just dots in a never-ending timeline leading to Sam. 

 

"Marry me," Bucky says, like it's a compliment rather than a question that should make him feel like Avengers Tower is balancing on his shoulders as he awaits the answer. 

 

Sam looks back at him, a smile quirking at his lips. He looks away. He turns the heat off then walks over to kiss Bucky, fingers holding his jaw. 

 

"Let's go inside. You can fuck me. We're both out of our minds," Sam says quietly.

 

Sam takes his hand, and Bucky lets himself be led away. He guesses he'd prefer this, rather than asking Sam if he'd heard him, or why he pretended not to. 

 

 

\--

 

 

Bucky comes home after three weeks of moving through eastern Europe with Natasha chasing a dead lead. Bucky returns to the Tower wanting a shower and a whole night spent in with Sam. But by the time they get back to New York it's late in the afternoon, Bucky gets his shower but not his Sam. 

 

Sam's training with Steve, both of them throwing jabs in the middle of a boxing ring. Bucky makes his presence known with a cough, a towel around his neck to catch droplets from his wet hair. Sam waves at him from where he’s pinned underneath Steve, who acknowledges Bucky by tipping his chin towards him with a grin. 

 

"Looks like you're re-enacting me and Sam's Friday nights," Bucky says.

 

"If that's so, they're pretty rough," Steve says. 

 

Sam groans. "Yeah. Tell me about it."

 

"You love it," Bucky says, genuinely wounded. 

 

"Okay. Looks like we're done here," Steve says. He assists Sam to his feet and makes his way for the bathroom. Bucky approaches the ring and puts his hand on Sam's shoulder to stop him when he tries to duck through the ropes. 

 

"Nuh uh. You and me," Bucky says. 

 

"No way! You just showered and I'm tired," Sam says, but he allows himself to be pushed back towards the centre.

 

Bucky hangs up his towel and kicks his slippers off. "I haven't trained in a while. I'm a lil rusty."

 

"It's not a fair game."

 

"Fair game? Sam, you just tried to take on Steve. I'm not any different."

 

"No, no. It's just. You're dressed like you're ready to get into bed."

 

"I can do this naked, Sam. Although something tells me you'd have no problem with that."

 

Sam groans, making a show out of wanting to walk away, but Bucky's always been good at sensing a hit two seconds before an opponent even decides to make a move, so Sam's right hook means nothing to him. Bucky blocks it, then goes in for a jab that sends Sam stepping backwards. 

 

It goes on for a bit, neither of them putting in their maximum effort. Bucky forces himself to slow down, to not predict Sam’s next move, letting Sam get some easy punches. On a regular day this would annoy Sam, but he’s too tired to point this out or even shit-talk.

 

Bucky pins Sam to the floor. 

 

"Let's have a wager. After this, whoever pins the other one down first gets whatever they want," Bucky says. 

 

"Let me guess. If you win, I have to marry you?" Sam says this teasingly, as if it's something Bucky could never achieve, and the thought of that actually hurts him. 

 

Then Sam's rubbing his ass against Bucky's cock before Bucky even confirms that yes, if Bucky wins he'll marry Sam immediately, logistics of it be damned. 

 

Bucky gets hard, thinks that he's going to fuck Sam right there, but he doesn't. Instead in a graceful manoeuvre and impressive use of Sam's Bucky-specific skill set (see: seduction), Sam turns the tables and Bucky's cheek hits the floor hard, maybe enough to bruise him. 

 

"I win," Sam says, breathless. He lifts himself up and hits the showers, leaving Bucky wondering why Sam really needed that win so badly.

 

 

\--

 

 

"Did Bucky always love flowers?" Bucky overhears Sam ask Steve in the other room.

 

"Bucky likes nice things, despite the fact he didn't have much of 'em," Steve says, then he laughs. "God. He had these boots. They were kind of, uh. Tasteless. Objectively. But he thought he was so cool with them. Thought he was a western hero. Oh god, sometimes he'd tuck his pants into one boot and not the other." 

 

Sam laughs.

 

Later that night in bed, Bucky tells Sam about those boots that he got from an antique store before the war. Sam laughs a lot, picturing Bucky in those boots. Bucky misses those times, even though he doesn’t feel like that person was really him. That Bucky's a completely different person, someone he remembers vaguely. He's a man displaced in time.

 

Now he remembers why he doesn’t like remembering too much. 

 

He likes himself in this period anyway, even though there are still things he's trying to comprehend; the political climate, how far technology has come and the L.A. Dodgers. One of the only simple, constant things in Bucky's life is Sam, who Bucky shares something special with that he's trying to convince himself he’s deserving of. Sometimes he thinks he'll cry when Sam touches him, especially when he sinks into him in bed, whispering to Sam how good he feels.

 

That's what he does after the conversation about the boots and other things. He opens Sam up with his fingers, spooning him, breathing hard against his neck. They both love this part, neither minding when that's all Bucky does for a few moments. They prolong the foreplay before they get to the good part. The waiting makes the final result more rewarding. Bucky thinks about his very long life. After all that waiting and suffering, in the end he gets Sam Wilson.  

 

When Bucky finally slides his cock inside of Sam he’s shaking. Sam stops himself from whining out in pleasure by bringing Bucky's metal fingers into his mouth. It's a strange pleasure, Bucky imagines, but it gets him going nonetheless, moving in sharp snaps of his hips, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Bucky plants his lips everywhere he can; all along the column of Sam's neck, his jaw, buries his face there until he uses his hand to tilt Sam's face towards him so they can kiss. In between kisses the ' _I love you, I love you_ ' and then the 'marry me' spills out uninhibited. Bucky's not even sure it's a question anymore, nor a statement or request of any sorts. It's just a proclamation that they'll be together forever. Sam seems to agree with that sentiment rather than the concept of marriage itself. 

 

They move, Sam on top of Bucky, rolling his hips forward. When he comes he falls onto Bucky's chest. Bucky comes on Sam’s back. After rolling onto the other side of the bed Sam sighs, _yeah,_ and Bucky falls asleep tiredly contemplating whether that was 'yeah, I'll marry you' or just 'yeah.'

 

 

\--

 

 

They chase down more leads across continents. Sam finds himself in Asia with Steve, Natasha back in Europe and Bucky in South America. They meet somewhere in the middle and determine that everything's a dead-end, but the threat of Hydra resurging is too high. _You can't really kill something_ , Sam says, Washington D.C. in mind, and that becomes the hopeless message of the trip. 

 

Avengers Tower is a sight for sore eyes, but it's home sort of. 

 

Sam takes time off, insisting Bucky should too. Bucky's never had time off. The closest to time off he's ever had probably being frozen. It takes a few weeks to get their leave approved, then Bucky's in a new environment all too soon. It’s a place that scares him more than being near people who might want to kill him: Sam's house, meeting his mother. He's never felt this kind of need to be approved and he's sweating under a sweater that Sam insisted that he wear. 

 

"She'll love you because I kinda bribed her to. But you still can't show up here looking like you just crawled out of a sewer," Sam says as they're approaching the door. 

 

"I don't—do I really look like shit?"

 

Sam stops and puts his hands on Bucky's shoulders. He rises on his toes to kiss him on the nose. 

 

"Sometimes," he says with a grin. He tucks Bucky's hair behind his ears, the ends brushing just past his shoulders. "Do you have a hair tie?" 

 

"No. Should I tie it up?" Bucky asks, falling into a state of mind panic as if Darlene will never like him at this point with his hair in such a state. 

 

"Don't worry about it."

 

Sam kisses him till they're both calm. 

 

Bucky holds Sam there for a while, having needed this—needed Sam in an environment where the chances of dying weren't high. Even now Bucky worries and over-thinks that someone's going to materialise and take all of this way from him. 

 

He's anxious again by the time Sam finally knocks on the door. The first thing Darlene does is smile at him, and he’s fine again. 

 

 

\--

 

 

The bed is too small, and Bucky can’t stop giggling about Sam wearing pyjamas that he hasn’t worn since the last time he lived with his mother. ‘They’re fitting for an old man,’ Bucky says, to which Sam responds, ‘like you?’

 

Bucky snuggles impossibly close to Sam, the bed only just containing them. Bucky loves things that force them closer together. He takes advantage of them often nowadays given that seeing Sam is rare pleasure and being this close to him is a miracle.

 

The next day Darlene wants to know what Bucky’s plans are. It takes a lot of naïve answers until she stops nodding and smiling at what he’s saying and just. Looks at him. Her stare, slightly icy, is both anxiety-inducing and calming. He’s just a man, like any other man, that’s in love with her son. It’s a completely expected scenario. Except Bucky’s not just a man. He’s the one Sam’s going to end up with for the rest of his life. Both Bucky and Darlene share this understanding without explicitly saying so.

 

“I asked Sam to marry me. A thousand times. I mean. A thousand times in my head. And probably five times in real life,” he says bashfully.

 

“Hm. Without asking me for approval first?” Darlene says, intimidating. Bucky pauses. “Just joking with you,” she says afterwards, laughing with her eyes crinkling in a way that’s so heartbreakingly beautiful to him because it reminds him of Sam.

 

“He hasn’t said yes. Or he might have. After we—He was half asleep.”

 

When they hear the shower stop running the conversation’s over. Before Bucky leaves the room, prepared to hide the fact that this conversation ever happened, Darlene cups one of his hands inside both of hers and says, “Don’t worry. There’s love in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.”

 

Afterwards, Bucky feels fine. He knows she’s right.

 

 

\--

 

 

During a mission they get ambushed. Nothing out of the ordinary. This happens often, yet still not as often as the times Bucky has had to dive into the sea. It doesn’t happen often because they tend to be very good at being discreet, mostly because Natasha insists that they should be and won’t have things any other way. The ambush is surprising, but they handle it. Everything’s going smoothly until Clint gets knocked down to the ground just as he releases an arrow, messing up his trajectory, and Bucky, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, gets it right through his right-hand.

Unbeknownst to Clint, after the incident Natasha spills to Bucky that the reason why Clint hasn’t apologised yet is because he’s utterly afraid of him. Knowing this, Bucky is surprised that the first time Clint speaks to him after the incident it’s a nonchalant, ‘woopsie daisy, huh, buddy?’

Bucky thinks all is well until, through Natasha, he hears about the fist fight.

“Fist fight?” Bucky asks. He’s doing leg presses in the training room. Natasha’s spotting him.

“Your husband punched Clint in the face.”

“Did he?”

“So he _is_ your husband?” She asks, eyebrow raised. “There’s been a conspiracy theory going around that you and Sam went off and got hitched during your little holiday.”

“We visited his mother,” Bucky says, resuming his workout and wanting to avoid this conversation.

“So she was the witness.”

Bucky finally stops with a long groan. Afterwards, he says, ‘We didn’t get married.” He clutches his heart at that, literally, and is immediately embarrassed that he had to do such a thing in front of Natasha. “I’ve asked him about ten thousand times,” he admits.

“I’m pretty sure I was present for one of those.”

Bucky thinks about that. Since visiting Darlene, he hasn’t asked Sam flat-out to marry him. However, he has brought up the topic of marriage in the following forms, _that gay guy from our grocery store got married, releasing doves at a wedding is so cliché_ and _I kind of told your mum I wanted to marry you._ They’re not marriage proposals, but they certainly come off as such, and come to think of it Natasha may have been present for all three. Maybe two. Bucky doesn’t like to bring up marriage when they’re alone now, because every time he has they ended up not speaking to each other for a bit. So he tries to do it in the company of others so it’s truly casual. Except it's not. Not really, not ever.

“Well. We’re not married,” Bucky says.

“And why should you be?” Nat asks.

“I don’t know. I feel like if he dies before we get married, I’ll live the rest of my life regretting not doing something I could’ve done when I had the chance. A lot of my life never really belonged to me. Now it does. I think—why wait to do shit?”

It’s the first time Bucky’s ever tried to justify his feelings out loud. He thinks it’s outrageous once he puts it out there. Natasha smiles at him sympathetically and squeezes his hand.

 

 

\--

 

 

That night, Bucky goes to bed late and is surprised to see Sam in bed wide awake, lamp on the bedside table on. He sits up as Bucky slides beneath the covers. Once he’s settled, Sam takes Bucky’s hands into his. Bucky thinks of Darlene and about how she so obviously passed her gentleness onto her son, who spent much of his life helping other people. They sit there for a while, close to each other but not close enough, their touches just as bare and shy as they were the first time they spent a night together in the same bed.

“Nat tells me you assaulted Clint?”

“He almost killed you.”

The response is quick, sharper than that arrow, and Bucky feels like the tables have turned.

“I took an arrow through the right hand not the heart, Sam,” Bucky says.

“Well! Let’s just say I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“Why you wanna get married so bad.” Sam sighs. “I’ve been a dick haven’t I?” Sam asks.

“No,” Bucky says.

“I just—I don’t know. You only wanted to marry me after I almost died,” Sam says.

“Well. Maybe so. I worry about it—if I never get to do it. If I never get to really have you.”

“I think about it too, Bucky. About losing you. It kills me. Every day it hurts. But I don’t want to build our marriage out of the fear of loss.” Sam turns to him and taps Bucky’s chin. “I wish you didn’t worry so much.” He presses their foreheads together. “I love you.”

Bucky sighs. It’s deep and so full. He drops his head onto Sam’s shoulder. Sam holds him there. “I’m just so scared all the time. I wanna stop feeling it.”

“Me too…Bucky, I don’t wanna get married while we’re surrounded by danger. Let’s wait till we stop doing this. Till we have our own little house, our gadgets aren’t Stark’s, and aliens go back to not existing.”

Bucky kisses Sam’s shoulder. “Yeah. I love you, Sam. God, I just love you.”

It’s quiet.

“But even if we’ll pretend aliens don’t exist…” Sam begins to say. “You’ll still be over a hundred goddamn years old.”

Bucky laughs.

It’s standard.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, friends!!!!!!!!
> 
> check me out on [tumblr](http://bamsucky.tumblr.com/)


End file.
